


Under Love’s Heavy Burden

by swaneewhistleandkazoo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Death in Childbirth, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Ned's POV, Pre Season 1, Promises, R Plus L Equals J, Robert's Rebellion, Tower of Joy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 02:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaneewhistleandkazoo/pseuds/swaneewhistleandkazoo
Summary: After finding Lyanna at the Tower of Joy Ned makes a promise to his sister that he will uphold for the rest of his life. It’s a heavy burden but one he will gladly carry out of the love he has for his sister and nephew.Or a fic about Ned’s perspective of what happen in the Tower of Joy and its aftermath





	Under Love’s Heavy Burden

**Author's Note:**

> For the first part of this fic, Jon Snow will be referred to by his birth name of Aegon Targaryen.

“Promise me Ned…Promise me”

The words that would haunt him for the rest of his life echoed dully around the small stone room.

The baby was a warm, wiggling bundle in his arms as dread dropped like a stone into the pit of his stomach, as Lyanna, his beloved sister’s voice grew weaker and more and more desperate. Lyanna’s face was pale and her dark hair made even darker with sweat, he couldn’t be certain but the pool of blood that blossomed around her, staining her birthing bed had grown larger since he had entered the room.

_She’s dying_ He realised took in the resignation in her face _And there is nothing I can do about it._

Her thin fingers clutched weakly at the bloody bed, but her dark eyes were fixed on him and her baby son was strong and determined. Her face contracted with pain as another rose of fresh blood blossomed onto the sheet. He glanced back down at the baby’s little innocent face looking up at him with his solemn dark gaze.

_His name is Aegon Targaryen._ She’d whispered to him

Oh Gods, He realised with horror still staring sadly down at the baby, she loved Rhaegar and considering their son carried the name of House Targaryen he’d loved her too. Enough to marry her, father a trueborn child with her. Tears pricked at the back of his eyeballs. Everything that had happened, her supposed kidnapping, their Father and Brother’s deaths at the hand of the Mad King, Roberts’ rebellion, all this chaos and death, the whole bloody war was all built on a bloody wretched mistake.

That also meant that this baby, little Aegon Targaryen who was barely more than a few hours old was the true heir to the Iron Throne.

_If Robert finds out, he'll kill him. You know he will. You have to protect him_

Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck and trickled down his spine and the enormity of the situation dawned on him. Robert would kill him to prevent any future usurping the Throne. But also because he was Rhaegar’s son, the ultimate proof that Lyanna hadn’t wanted to marry him he had no bones about that.

By all rights and honour he should protect his king and kill the only remaining scion of a nearly extinct house that could threaten him. The baby’s shear existence could cause another civil war before Robert’s reign even began as families scrabbled for power in this new age, like dogs over kitchen scraps.

But the same Stark blood ran in his veins too. His beloved sister’s son the one she’d sacrificed her life to carry into the world.

How could he condemn his sister’s son for the crime of just being born.

She was dying and her only concern was her son.

_His nephew_ he thought suddenly and a small smile tugged the corner of his lips up as Lyanna continued to look at him pleadingly _I have nephew!_

A great burden settled across his shoulders like he’d pulled a winter cloak around him, heavy and suffocating. For the rest of his life he’d have to lie to everyone including his King, his Catelyn and maybe even to Aegon himself, to tarnish his honour and name all in order to protect his sister’s son. But it was a burden he shouldered gladly born out of the love and duty he had for his sister and nephew.

Juggling the baby so he had one hand free he reached out and held her own blood soaked fingers with his, her blood was tacky between his fingers and her hand as she gripped his fingers with a desperate strength.

With the sense he was making the most important vow of his life he sealed the fate of his sister, his nephew and possibly the fate of all Westeros.

“I protect him” He vowed to her “I promise you”

A great shudder of relief reverberated through his sister body and her eyes slid shut as the pain etched in the lines on her face eased somewhat. For a moment he’d though she’d died until she opened them, slightly opaque now and made a little becoming gesture. He wanted to scream, or cry, to rage against the old gods and the new to prevent them from taking his sister away from him but instead he gently lay her son on her chest and when she weakly tried to lift her free hand to hold him he helped her to lay it securely on her precious bundle.

All he could sit there silently holding her other hand and watch as her thumb moved back and forth on the blanket wrapped baby, giving her son what love and comfort she could before she left him forever, an orphan in this cold harsh world.

Her pulse was weak against his fingers and her skin was taking on a greyish hint, he’d seen to many men die to not see the signs that she was dying and he knew that she was wavering on the edge of the void, she drew her half lidded gaze back to him and mouthed at him one last time “Promise me, Ned. Promise me”

In some ways his vow was easier to say this time as he leaned in and kissing her bloody fingers and whisper the words that would haunt him for the rest of his life directly to her “I promise”

She smiled slightly and her eye slide shut. They didn’t open again.

He was still sitting there numbly when the door to the chamber burst open and Howland Reed stumbled into the room. He must have staunched his wounds as quickly as possible and rushed up the stairs to his Lords aid. The little Crannogman’s dark eyes bounced wildly around the room, took in Lyanna’s still, cooling body and his shoulders slumped tiredly in defeat, lowering his spear as he realised that they had been too late to save her.

“Oh” Howland always had a great talent for summing up a situation in a single word.

With great awkwardness his small tanned hand patted him tentatively on his shoulder “I’m so sorry My lord” The Crannogman’s voice cracked “She was the best of us she was” Since Lyanna had stood up for him against those squires and treated him like the loyal bannerman he was at the Great Tourney, Howland had always held the greatest respect for Lyanna, calling her the She-Wolf.

Unable to stand even Howland’s sympathetic hand on his shoulder he shrugged it off and carefully scooped up the last remaining part of his sister from her lifeless chest and clasped him to his chest, hugging him tightly.

Aegon squeaked a little in protest at the sudden movement but soon settled down quietly against his chest.

“Aegon Targaryen” The words rang around the room although he spoke quietly “Sixth of his Name, Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

Howland’s mouth moved in silent, shocked realisation. He might have said something but he couldn’t hear it through the ringing in his ears.

Aegon looked at them both solemnly as if he knew they were addressing him with his full title and the significance behind it.

“I promised her I’d protect him” His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears before it hardened with determination “And I will”

But how? How to keep the biggest secret in Westeros?

With a surprising amount of dignity despite the tears running down his thin brown face Howland carefully drew the blood stained sheet up over Lyanna’s face, creating a makeshift shroud. Then knelt next to his chair and using the tip on one finger stroked the soft skin of Aegon’s little hand that was clutching at edge of his blankets. “He looks like her, Ned” and he smiled through his tears down at the baby.

It was true Aegon had almost no trace of his Targaryen heritage in him, although that might change as he grew up.

A fierce protective rush washed over him at the great challenge in protecting his nephew washed over him again breaking through the shock and grief at Lyanna’s death. I have to protect him and an desperate mad idea started to form how.

“Howland” He said desperately clutching his loyal friend’s shoulder “No one can know, he’s my nephew, I have to protect him” It was on the tip of his tongue to demand Howland silence as his Liege Lord but he couldn’t do that to his faithful friend. It was one thing to tarnish his own honour and reputation but he’d be dammed if he asked his friend to do the same.

The crannogman took a long look at Lyanna’s covered body and another longer one at her child in Ned's arm then closed his eyes and intoned the dark and ancient words of his House “I swear it by earth and water, by bronze and iron” He stole another lingering glance at Baby Aegon “By ice and fire that the truth will die with me”

“Howland” He was simultaneously touched and shocked by his brave, strong and smart friend’s vow “You don’t have too I’d….”

_I’d never order you too._

For once quietly spoken Howland cut him off “Lyanna did right by me and my House once my Lord. As have you” He paused for a moment, apparently lost in memories “Let me do right by you and her this way.”

He could only murmur his deepest most heartfelt thanks and internally marvel at the depths of Howland’s loyalty and friendship.

*

Later that evening as they sat watching the flames dance in the campfire while one of the servant girls nursed Aegon. He kept a careful protective watch over her every movement ensuring his nephew’s safety. He already missed the warm wiggly weight of him in arms, it was truly amazing how quickly fatherly impulses could overcome a man. With a practised ease she burped the baby and rewrapped him up in his blankets.

“Here my Lord” Her eyes were soft and tender as she handed Aegon back to him. “He should sleep now”

“Thank you…?” He said gruffly, carefully adjusting Aegon in his grip so they were both comfortable. He couldn’t remember the servant woman’s name and it shamed him, he was usually very good at remembering the names of his servants.

“Wylla” She supplied him nervously.

“Thank you Wylla” Unused to womanly things, men were banished from the birthing rooms for a good reason, he shifted in his seat embarrassed “Would you be able to come back and…uh…look after him again”

She smiled soft and motherly “Of course, My Lord.”

 As the fire popped and spat sparks he settled down next to Howland and watched as the little eyes fought a desperate battle against sleep and lost, the small mouth opening in a surprisingly wide yawn as he drifted off.

Afraid of waking him, Ned held very still and for the first time marvelled his nephew. He’d never seen someone so small, he couldn’t remember holding his younger brother though Brandon had told him that they had all held Benjen and he’d never held his and Catelyn’s newborn son what with him being away at war and all. Babies were marvellous things he decided. The little head barely fit in the palm of his hand and he fit quite comfortable along the length of his forearm. He hadn’t realised that babies had finger nails or eyelashes.

So tiny, so perfect, a little human in miniature.

He was so small, so fragile he realised; his breath left his chest frightened exhale as he thought about all the things that could snuff out his little life, not just Robert but all the normal things that could steal children from their parents.

Doubt’s crept in, the odds were so pilled against them. What if he couldn’t protect him? What if everyone found out? What if it was all for nought?

“He’s so small” he could help but voice his concern out to his bannerman “What if he dies?”

Howland spat some gristle into the fire “Nah, he won’t die” He spoke with quiet confidence and gave Aegon’s little belly a light tickle with his free hand. “You’re going to grow up big and strong aren’t you little Aegon? Yes you are.” The baby gave a little happy wiggle in his sleep and Howland let out a bark of laughter at his antics.

Smiling down at his nephew he sank deeper into his musing, thinking and plotting the best ways to keep him safe. Lots of children where called Aegon but he wanted to draw as little attention to Aegon’s Targaryen blood as possible.

He wished Jon Arryn, with his experience and wisdom was here to guide him. Surely he’d know the best way forward.

 Very slowly, testing out the words he said “We can’t keep calling him Aegon, it will give him away”

Howland just looked at him calmly. “So want do you want to call him then?”

 That caught him off guard he’d never named anything more important that a horse or a dog before and now he had to come up with a name that this boy would have to carry for the rest of his life. His first thought was to name him Robert after his oldest friend but that didn’t sit well with him, after all a boy shouldn’t be named after the man who killed his father. He briefly considered Brandon after his brother or Rickard after his father but neither felt right to him, their losses were too close and painful to give to another right now. Maybe if he and Catelyn had more children.

He wanted to give Aegon a good name, a name he could be proud of.

_Jon?_

It was a good northerner name, a Stark family name and the story of Jon Stark who’d driven Sea Raiders out of the North and built the Wolf's Den, at the mouth of the White Knife, so as to be able to defend the mouth of the river, had always been one of Lyanna’s favourite stories and Jon Arryn had been like a father to him. No one would bat an eyelid if he turned up with a baby named Jon.

It even sounded relatively close to Aegon, so he wouldn’t be betraying his sister so much.

Very reluctantly and with a muted apology to his sister for changing the name she’d chosen for her son he tested it out.

“Jon” It felt right to say it “I think his name should be Jon”

“I’ve never heard of a Targaryen called Jon before” Howland shrugged one shoulder and stared into the fire, nodding like he approved “Jon Stark, I like that.”

With a heavy heart he reluctantly forced out the words. “He can’t be a Stark.”

The shock on Howland’s face could have been seen from the Wall, he stared at him incredulously open mouthed and for the first time he wondered if he’d lost Howland Reed’s loyalty “He’s your sister’s son, Ned! Your nephew! He’s a Stark!” He’d never heard Howland sound so outraged.

 “Of course he’s a Stark, Howland! But think…” He said desperately “…If I come back with my sister’s son someone’s going to put two and two together and figure out that Rhaegar Targaryen is his father and it’ll all be for nought.”

In doing this he was going to dreadfully hurt Catelyn, the bride he’d only barely begun to know but was already starting to love, he could never tell her this. Would have to endure taunts and sneers behind his back on how the great honourable Ned Stark had broken his vows. To subject Jon to shame, ridicule and distrust for the rest of his life for being born on the wrong side of the sheets.

But none of that mattered he could live with the dishonour, the taunts and Catelyn’s loss of trust if it meant keeping his vow to his sister and concealing his nephew’s true parentage. Only he and Howland would know the truth and in the end that was all that mattered.

“But if he’s my son no one will question it.” After all a man turning to a woman for comfort and fathering a bastard with her during a war wasn’t that unusual he was pretty sure Robert had one or two bastards running around now that he had before the war had begun.

Horrified realisation dawned on Howland’s face “You’re going make him a bastard? Lose your honour, the most honourable man I know, Ned!”

To make Jon a bastard was subject him to social disgrace. Having a bastard status would take him away from his birth right as heir to the Seven Kingdoms and even remove his rightful inheritance as a true born Stark. It left a bad taste in his mouth to do so but anything else would be leaving Jon’s parentage vulnerable to exposure.

“Yes” As Howland blanched as his tone made it clear that this was not an argument Howland was going to be able to change his mind on. Gentling his voice slightly he sought to reassure his friend “I don’t like it either Howland but it’s the only way.”

Maybe smarter, more politically savvy men could have come up with a better plan but it was the best plan he could come up with at short notice.

Howland’s mouth twisted sadly and he stoked the fire savagely “Jon Sand it is then?”

He followed the bright sparks dancing their way up towards the heavens “No, Sand would indicate that he’d been born in Dorne. Nothing can tie him to this place.”

Glancing over at Lyanna’s covered body, he couldn’t bear to leave her in the Tower of Joy and wanted her to rest with the rest of their family in the crypts beneath Winterfell. And he thought about how much she’d loved the north, of her Stark feature’s she’d passed to her son, of her Wolf’s blood and the scent of Winter roses.

She was a Northerner and so was her son no matter where he was born.

“He’s a Snow”

**Author's Note:**

> My first time posting in this fandom, please be nice. 
> 
> Your Comments and Kudo's are as always deeply appreciated.


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